


A Curse and a Cure

by daroh



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Curse, Sex Magic, Unrequited Merlin/Arthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8676781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh/pseuds/daroh
Summary: Merlin is plagued by a sex curse that will reveal his magic when cured.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aeris444](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeris444/gifts).



> Thanks to the mods, my wonderful life-saving betas, and of course, to Aeris444 for being so great to write for!! I wish I could have done one of your longer prompts (which were all amazing!), but this one inspired me the most! I hope you like it!!! Happy Merlin Holidays!! <3

The patrols had been searching for Merlin for days.  

He hid from them as best he could, knowing he had to stay close to Camelot but also avoid being found—especially by Arthur—at almost any cost.

It was getting harder by the hour, though, as the witch’s curse wracked his body, a strange and powerful lust trembling through him, urging his magic as much as his seed to seek release.

The witch had discovered he was a sorcerer who served Camelot as Arthur’s devoted servant, turning his back on his own kind. She accused him of helping Uther burn magic users at the stake, a fate that her son her had recently suffered for selling magical trinkets and love potions. Her rage at the loss, and for so trifling a crime, would not easily be quelled.

Her curse and its three incantations ensured that Merlin would not only be tortured and humiliated but exposed and condemned as well. It made him wild with a lust that only another could slake; it linked his magic to his seed in a way even he couldn’t fully grasp; and its torturous effects intensified the further he strayed from Camelot.

The spell made his whole being ache for discovery, exhibition, and most of all, violation. He longed to be found and ravaged, used and punished for his betrayal and his power and his wretchedness, but at least finally able to let it all out, to be free. He craved the lust of someone else, someone who could stop the desperate ache, empty him of his corrupted magic, then fill the hollowed out spaces with something calm and pure, something new and untainted.  

For such urgent relief, he would risk almost anything, maybe even Arthur knowing all his secrets, finding out by discovering Merlin as he was quickly becoming—utterly manic, sweat-soaked and predatory, his eyes wild and gold and glazed over with an almost hostile need, his face flushed and tearstained from his own struggles against the curse.

He couldn't let it come to that. He had to remember his destiny, and Arthur, and Albion. The promise of the five kingdoms could not be ruined because of his naive offer to help a wayward witch. She had played the part of a druid in distress to confirm her suspicions, her maudlin tale inspiring him to show her the path out of harm’s way. “Follow the drifting leaves and you’ll be safe,” he’d said, and he’d revealed his magic with the breeze he’d cast—for her salvation, he thought—along a trail towards a druid camp.

Once he'd revealed himself, she’d struck him down, carnal pain shooting through his veins in an instant, as if it had been lying dormant inside him all this time, waiting to be unleashed. That seemed all too possible, since he’d spent so many nights selfishly indulging his infatuation with Arthur, willing Arthur to know his magic, to love it, and him, and his body. Merlin would envision Arthur’s worship until he couldn’t bear it anymore. He’d finally take himself in hand roughly, hating that this—not Albion—was his deepest desire. He’d find release, but never with any real pleasure in it, so mingled with shame were his fantasies.   

The curse made him feel like he was reliving all of those tormented nights at once, his arousal impossibly amplified along with his humiliation.

At first, he had fallen to the ground. His fist instinctively flew to his hardened cock, but he quickly withdrew it with a cry. His hand had felt like fire and sandpaper against his prick. Even through his trousers, the sensation was unbearable.

The witch was long gone by the time he thought of stopping her. She had left him with no options but to seek help from someone else, and that was out of the question. It would mean his death, since his magic would be revealed, in some way or other.

He couldn't tell how, exactly, that would happen. Would the magic burn him up, or scourge his unlucky helper, should such a person come along? Would it destroy everything in its vicinity? It felt like it might. Its awesome power swelled inside him until he could only thrash against the ground, trying to tire his body out, but the stirring magic never quieted. 

***

The fevered shaking of his body made it hard to know exactly how much time had passed. He was exhausted from the strain of holding onto consciousness. It was all he could do to avoid detection by Arthur and his patrols. If he wanted to stay alive, that had to be his priority. He couldn't worry about what else might befall him. 

It must have been days, though, days of writhing in the dirt, thrusting against it and burrowing into it, dreaming of Arthur, or even his own hand, choking on the dust he inhaled with his moans.  

He whimpered, wishing he could magic his way out of the situation, but he had no use of it while it was bound to his lust. He tried to stifle his weeping. In lucid moments, his fate seemed hopeless. How long could he last like this? What could possibly be done? The whole ordeal was bound to end with him on the pyre without the slightest relief from his present torture.

Mercifully, at last, he passed out from the pain and the struggle against the curse.

***

“Merlin! Merlin!” Percival said, shaking the muddied figure lying face-down on the ground. Merlin’s clothes were wet with dew, sweat, and day-old rain. “Please! Wake up!”

Merlin turned abruptly, like a rabbit hearing a trap snap shut behind it.

“Shhhh!!” Merlin hissed, his breath shaky. The finger he held to his mouth was trembling and caked with dirt. His other hand still clung to the grass he lay in, keeping himself pressed to the ground.  

Percival studied Merlin’s eyes, then nodded.  

“Are you all right? What can I do?” he whispered.

Merlin was struck with lewd thoughts immediately— _you can fuck me, fuck the magic out of me_ —but he fought back the words.

“You can—” he started. “I’m...I'm fine. You can forget you saw me.” His lips twitched as he struggled to say something more, something else.

Percival stared at him. Merlin finally added, “Go!”

Percival leaned over him to speak more softly, placing a tentative hand on Merlin’s back. Merlin winced at the touch, but then pressed into it, a small moan escaping his lips. His eyes shut tightly and a few tears leaked through, burning his cheeks, already raw from bouts of crying and the crisp autumn air on his skin.

Percival rubbed Merlin’s back more firmly. “I'm going to get you help,” he said.

“No!” Merlin ground out, trying to sound commanding, ridiculous as that might seem while lying in muck, gazing up at an armored knight.  

Surprisingly, Percival obeyed. He’d always kept a respectful distance from Merlin, but Merlin had never really given thought to why.

He was glad Percival listened now.   

“Then let me help you,” Percival said, and pulled Merlin in to sit against his chest as he pushed the soaked jacket from Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin whimpered, pressing hard into Percival’s chest, as if trying to take shelter beneath the chain mail. Merlin was glad Percival was wearing it, despite how it separated him from the warm flesh he craved. The pain of the links digging into his cheek was a welcome distraction, and the mail helped stifle the sobs that were bubbling up from his throat.

As Percival held him, his sobbing grew more constant, and he stopped fighting it.  With one hand, Percival made circles on Merlin’s back, and the other carded through Merlin’s hair, matted with dirt as it was.

“I’m spelled,” Merlin said between muffled sobs. He pulled away from Percival’s hold.

Percival nodded.  “All right. We’ll fix it. Can Gaius help?”

“No,” Merlin said, recoiling at the idea of returning to Camelot. “I can’t go back like this. I can’t go back.”

“Tell me what you need, then. There must be something I can do. You’re shivering. You’re…” He paused, either to study Merlin’s condition or choose his words. Merlin couldn’t tell which. “Let me help.”

Merlin thought about his aching prick that he couldn’t touch. He thought about how he must look and smell, how cruel the spell was to make him utterly undesirable when he most needed to attract someone. Percival felt so good to press up against, so masculine and muscular, but more tender than anyone else in Camelot, somehow.

A new wave of shame hit him, not wanting Percival to find out any more of the horrible details about his state. He cared what Percival thought, he realized, just as he cared what Arthur thought. Not out of fear for his life, but fear of being regarded as vile. He felt vile.

“It’s useless,” he said. “Kill me, maybe. Maybe you can kill me.”

Percival nodded, then got to his feet.

“All right, Merlin. I’ll kill you,” he said and drew his sword.

Merlin’s eyes grew wide. “You’ll what?” His voice went high enough to be almost just breath.

“I’ll kill you. If it’s the only way to help you, I’ll do it. I’ll be sorry, but I’ll do it.” He placed the edge of the sword near Merlin’s neck.  

“Percival—wait!” Merlin shifted away from the blade, loathing its proximity. He didn’t want to die, and certainly not at Percival’s hand. At Arthur’s, maybe. He half expected Arthur to kill him someday. But not Percival.  

Percival lowered the sword, his posture losing its tension. “Why? Did some other idea come to mind finally?”

A small smile pulled at Merlin’s lips, realizing how easily Percival had gotten him to relent. He owed him an explanation. He also could see now that it’d be better to be hated by Percival than be dead, though he really hoped neither would happen.

“I—” Merlin started, searching their surroundings for the first time since Percival had shown up. “I was cursed by a witch. She pretended to be a druid and I tried to help her, but really she wanted revenge.”

“For what?” Percival asked. He sat down again, facing Merlin this time.

 _For me helping the wrong side_ , Merlin thought. No need to reveal everything to Percival.

“It’s a sex spell,” Merlin said. It seemed a lot easier to say that than answer Percival’s question. He hoped it was shocking enough to change the subject back to the immediate problem.

“Okay,” Percival said. His voice was calm, and he kept a soft gaze on Merlin that seemed almost uncanny, under the circumstances.

“Okay? What do you mean _okay_? I’m rabid with it,” Merlin said, getting more anxious as he became more aware of his lust, now that they were talking about it. Percival hadn’t even flinched.   

“Can I help?” he asked, almost in a whisper. He brought a thumb up to Merlin’s cheek to caress it. “I would, Merlin. Let me help. Whatever it means.”

“What? Why would you want to do that?”

“You’re suffering.”

“And disgusting.”

“Never, Merlin. You’ve been cursed, but you’re still you.”

“Me, with the muck and stink from days of this. Me with a cursed cock and a gaping hole that is definitely not a cunt. Me with a filthy mouth! Me that you can’t possibly want at all. Just leave me. And please don’t tell Arthur!”

Percival looked sad rather than offended. Merlin’s mind couldn’t process the reaction.

“I’ve always liked you, Merlin,” Percival said. “I can’t believe you don’t know that.”

Merlin definitely didn’t know that. “You don’t even talk to me,” he said.

“Exactly!” Percival said, his smile slight, almost apologetic.

Merlin sputtered out a laugh. He was surprised and also relieved. Something fluttered in his stomach underneath the curse and the hunger, but he had no time to examine it. He also now had a new problem. He hadn’t expected Percival to offer himself as a means of cure.

“Percival, how could I…?” _not notice, you or your crush_ , he wanted to ask, but he realized that was a question for himself.

“You’re amazing, and I bet it’d be incredible to—” Merlin cut himself off, shaking his head. He fidgeted, still sitting on the ground, trying to change the angle of his cock's discomfort in his trousers. “No, no,” he decided. “Let’s go back to killing me.”

Percival sighed. “Merlin, this spell is killing you. I know I’m not who you’d want here with you, but I’ll do whatever you need—whatever you want, even, and I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”  

His earnestness was unexpected, just as everything else from him had been. Merlin was starting to see what he’d been missing by being so focused on Arthur all the time. He felt as if he was meeting Percival for the first time, the staid knight who found him literally trying to plow a field with his cock and still liked him, could still be kind to him.   

“Percival, you’d be more than okay.  Better than anyone, maybe,” he admitted.  

Percival smiled and leaned forward. He planted a small, chaste kiss at the corner of Merlin’s mouth. “Yeah?” he said. He sat back on his heels, then pulled his chain mail over his head, his tunic going with it. His muscled chest looked tantalizing, and Merlin surged forward, letting his fingertips graze over Percival’s hot skin. He felt like a statue come to life in Merlin’s hands, and it was impossible to stop touching him. Merlin's hands wandered until they teased at the waist of Percival’s trousers.

It killed him to stop himself, but he did.

He swallowed dryly. “Percival, you don’t hate magic, do you?” he asked.

Percival took a breath that made his chest visibly rise and fall. There was a faint sheen of sweat on him, and he smelled of grass and leather, with a faint musk that was his own. Merlin let himself lick a bit of sweat from Percival’s shoulder.

He really hoped the magic wasn’t about to ruin everything.

“No,” Percival said.

 _Thank the gods_ , Merlin thought, and let out a shaky sigh.

“But I hate that it did this to you,” he said. He lifted Merlin’s chin with a gentle hand, just as Merlin was going in for another lick. “I hate that you’ve been here all this time like this, hurting.”

Merlin studied Percival's gaze, hoping he could really mean it, really not hate _him_. “But you don’t hate it?” Merlin’s voice was small.

“No. Magic isn’t bad, it’s people like this witch that are.”

Merlin drew his arms around Percival and kissed him properly on the mouth, firm and determined. It was a kiss full of gratitude as his lips pressed hard against Percival’s, but his gratitude was quickly replaced by a kind of marvelous affection as Percival opened for him, inviting the deeper contact of long, slow licks into each other’s mouths.   

Merlin was quickly becoming enamored of Percival, the gorgeous knight who’d found him and didn’t flinch, who didn’t hate magic, who didn’t mind Merlin’s wretched state or this horrible spell, who hadn’t even blamed Merlin for what happened, which is what he could have expected from a knight of Camelot.  

Merlin broke the kiss but kept his arms around Percival, his fingers slowly tracing the long muscles of his back. “Have you ever told Arthur that?” he asked.

Percival lowered his eyes and stayed silent for a moment longer than made Merlin comfortable. Had he screwed up somehow? He couldn't be a sensitive conversationalist in this state, so he waited for Percival to respond.

“He never asked,” Percival said. “He knows how I feel, though.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said. Everyone knew Percival didn’t judge anyone until their actions called for it, and even then, he was capable of forgiveness. He was the kindest of all the knights. Why Merlin never thought about that before, he didn’t know.

“You’re the right one, Percival. You’re who I need,” Merlin said, and he held him close, realizing how stupid he’d been not to know that all along.

Percival began unfastening Merlin’s belt, untucking his tunic.

“If we do this...” Merlin began.

“We’re doing it.”

“Okay, _when_ we do this, there will be magic. I mean...magic will be released. From me. I can feel it inside me. It’s ready to burst.”

Percival nodded. “It’s okay.”

“No, I mean… It hurts to keep it in, but I also can’t let it out. I’ve tried, but it hurts and it doesn’t go anywhere.” A lump started forming in Merlin’s throat, and he quickly swallowed it. “I’m afraid when it does come out, it might be awful for you—or _to_ you. It might hurt you.”

“Merlin, it’s hurting you,” Percival said, his voice low. “I’m not afraid.” He untied the laces of Merlin’s trousers, which fell easily from his hips. Merlin’s cock sprang free, stiff and painfully red, the wetness leaking from the tip only causing further irritation. The dried pre-come that flaked along his shaft and stomach in layers told of the days of agony he’d been suffering. Percival gazed at it only briefly before lowering his head into Merlin's lap.

Merlin felt Percival’s tongue lick a strip of moisture from the base of his cock to its head, and it felt like a balmy salve and a delicious promise all at once. Merlin could only take a few licks before he needed more.  

“Oh, _gods,_ ” Merlin said, thrusting his hips to try to get his cock inside Percival’s mouth. Percival took the hint, letting Merlin slide into his sucking mouth until his cock hit the back of Percival’s throat. Merlin moaned lewdly at the wondrous sensation, so unknown to him in these recent days of torment. He let his head loll back as he snapped his hips into Percival’s willing mouth. He’d almost lost himself to the feeling entirely when he realized with a shock how horribly this could go. He pulled away and met Percival's startled gaze.

“Don’t suck me,” he said. “It might be bad—for you, I mean.”

Percival nodded, swiping a thumb over the corner of his mouth. “What then? Should I open myself for you?”

Merlin whimpered. _Gods_ , how good that sounded, and Percival was offering it all, with his sculpted warrior’s physique, hard, round ass and vulnerable eyes. It was devastating in ways the curse couldn’t even touch.

Merlin shook his head.   

“No, no. You should be inside me,” he said. He thought of the pain, the swollen, aching, lusting itch that needed to be scratched deep inside him. Percival shifted to get behind him, and Merlin let himself fall forward, catching himself in the dirt.

“I’m sorry this is how this is happening,” Percival said, untying his trousers. “I’ve thought about being with you, but not like this. Not with a spell. I’m sorry.”

Percival’s cock was quickly freed and felt huge along the cleft of Merlin’s ass. Having it this close to his hole was quickly sending Merlin beyond the realm of rational thought. “No sorries,” he managed to say. He turned his head to catch Percival’s gaze. “Maybe this will be the greatest fuck of our lives.” He winked, hoping to get Percival more in the mood for sex than sorries. Then he added, stupidly, “If we survive it.”

“We will,” Percival said.

Percival put his arms around Merlin’s chest and lifted him back up so he could lick wet kisses onto Merlin’s neck. It felt lascivious and glorious, being out in the open, arching back into the broad, hard expense of Percival’s chest, feeling Percival’s cock rutting against his ass, the sounds of licks and sucks teasing his ears. Merlin thought he might die from it.

He felt large, calloused hands roam over his hips and around his waist, up over his stomach and chest and down again. Percival seemed to be able to touch all of him at once, with his mouth and his hands and his thighs and his cock. One of Percival’s hands skated down to Merlin’s own prick and stroked it lightly.

“Fuck,” Merlin said, his head falling backwards onto Percival’s shoulder. “Fuck, please. I’m ready.” He rubbed his ass along Percival’s erection, trying to catch the head on his rim so he could force it into himself.

“God, you’re huge,” he said. His own prick leaked more at the thought. He’d been on the verge of coming for days, and somehow he kept getting closer.  

“I’ll get you ready,” Percival said. Merlin felt a finger at his entrance, but he knew he needed little preparation. “Oh _god_ ,” Percival said with a hard thrust against Merlin’s ass cheek. “You’re wet and…so open already.”

“It’s the magic. I’ve been ready for days. You can just fuck into me, Perce. Just fuck!” Merlin’s hips were thrusting, his prick getting some friction from Percival’s hand closed loosely around it.

“Still, let me—”

Merlin felt more fingers inside him. It was better, much better, but still not enough. “That’s three, Merlin. You’re still a little tight,” he said.

“That’s why it’ll feel good. Just do it!”

Percival took more time though, and Merlin was moaning and writhing in his grasp, aching for something more to finally be filling him up. “Okay, that’ll have to do,” Percival said, his voice gruffer than before, but still low and soft.

Merlin felt Percival’s cock breach his hole, and his body seemed to take over from there. He pushed back hard and felt Percival’s cock stretch him widely, obscenely. He loved it. It burned with pleasure just how he needed it to. He rocked, seated on Percival’s cock for a stinging, delicious minute. Every movement was a new blend of bliss and stretch.  

“Merlin—” Percival said, voice shaking. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said absently, his breath catching as he writhed on Percival’s cock, helping it massage the right spot inside.

Percival moaned, licking and sucking at Merlin’s neck, holding him in place. It felt perfect for a while, but inevitably, it wasn’t enough.   

He tried to move forward to create more space between them.  He needed to be fucked, to have masses of magic fucked out of him, and gyrating on Percival’s lap wasn’t going to get that to happen. Percival loosened his grip and Merlin let himself fall forward, pushing back against Percival once his arms in the grass gave him leverage. He felt better in this position, on all fours like a rabid animal that knew only its own need. That was what he felt like, and he needed Percival to see it.  

“Gods, Merlin. You’ll kill me _without_ the spell,” Percival said, and he began thrusting, not bothering with a slow build. Percival seemed as ravenous as he was, and Merlin needed that shared hunger. He needed Percival to want him like this, to want to fuck him hard and filthy into the ground, the spell be damned.    

The sounds of their panting and sweaty thrusts were louder than their voices had been during all of their conversation, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Every snap of Percival’s hips brought Merlin closer to ecstasy and freedom. He reached back with one hand, wanting to feel the massive thighs that drove Percival’s cock deep inside him. Just the thought of that power, and that broad cock slamming into his drooling hole, was enough to bring him closer.  

“Yes! Fuck! I’m there!” Merlin cried. He grabbed Percival’s hand from his own hip and brought it back around to his cock. Percival stroked him in time to his thrusting, and it felt to Merlin like his whole being was pulsing with a tension taut enough to snap.

“Please don’t stop! Don’t come, don’t come,” Merlin cried, his eyes shut tightly, lost to sensations he couldn’t bear to have end just yet.  

“But I can’t—”

“Please,” Merlin said, “keep going, even when I’m— _aahhhnnn_!”

Merlin finally felt his ecstasy peaking, and it was sublime. He opened his eyes to see his seed shooting onto the grass. He looked in awe at Percival’s hand pumping his cock, not stopping, just as Merlin had said. Merlin grinned through his release, feeling pleasure so expansive it finally blinded him with a burst of gold, pulsing in time with Percival’s thrusts and the waves of his own orgasm.

“Merlin, are you all right? I’m so close,” he heard Percival say, his rhythm getting rougher. Percival’s cock was still milking seed from deep inside Merlin, working out all of the magic that the curse had imprisoned in him. He needed Percival to fuck out every drop. He needed to be emptied, completely emptied, and only then could be renewed.  

“Keep going,” Merlin mumbled, still streaking the ground with come.  

“Merlin,” Percival said, his voice breaking with strain. “I can’t. I can’t—”  

Merlin’s eyes flashed a final, intense gold, then white, and then went dark.

He collapsed onto the ground and felt Percival fall on him heavily, continuing to snap his hips as his own orgasm finally crested. Merlin moaned when he felt the pulsing rush of Percival’s seed inside him.

It felt like it had a magic all its own, coursing through him like a river that had been dammed for far too long.

He felt Percival tremble with the last small twitches of release, each one sending more vitality through Merlin’s body.  He loved the feeling of the energy filling him up, moving through him and nourishing him back to life.

After a few minutes, Merlin opened his eyes and let them adjust to the colors of the world again.

To his disbelief, daisies had sprung up all around them, fully grown.  It was the most ridiculous and most thrilling thing he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t keep his broadest grin from spreading from ear to ear. He wasn’t just relieved; he was giddy. His magic hadn’t destroyed the world; it had fertilized it, and somehow, that made a kind of sense.  

Percival was still lying on top of him, breathing heavily but evenly.  
  
“Percival? Are you all right?” he asked, suddenly realizing Percival might have suffered more than the effects of a rather strenuous fuck.  

Percival chuckled.  “All right?” He placed a gentle kiss on the back of Merlin’s neck. “I can’t believe I was going to be too noble to enjoy that.”

Merlin laughed, too, and said, “Good. Maybe you could get off me then?”

Percival slid off of Merlin and lay on the ground next to him. He rubbed Merlin’s back again, lazily this time. Everything felt calm and rather brilliant.

They stayed like that for a while, basking in the total absence of urgency.  

“Daisies, huh?” Percival finally said. “Daisies were your horrible magic attack?”

Merlin looked around again, admiring the vast meadow, now covered in thousands of beautiful flowers.  

His grin grew toothy and wide again. “We made daisies,” he said and laughed, tucking his head down with some embarrassment.

“We did.” Percival sounded pleased, though, victorious, even. Merlin looked at him to see the blush on his cheeks, and they both snickered a little awkwardly.

They settled back into their lounging. “I can’t promise that will happen every time, you know,” Merlin said.

Percival quirked his head. “Every time? You mean that curse is still in you?”

“Oh, no, you took care of that,” Merlin said, running his hand admiringly over Percival’s bicep.

“Then what? You might want to do it again just to be sure?” Percival teased.  

“You know you can never be too sure with these things.”  

“True,” Percival said, then let his head fell onto his arm. “We should probably be getting you back to the castle, though. Arthur will be relieved to have you back, and I’m sure you’d like to see him, too.”

To his own surprise, Merlin found he wasn't in a hurry. It was as if Percival had cured him of two curses. “Actually, I’d rather stay here with you a little longer,” he said. “We should figure out what we’re going to say, anyway.”

“I won’t tell anyone about your magic, Merlin.”

“You won’t?”

“Of course not.”

“And you don’t mind it?”

“Mind it? Your come makes daisies grow.” He pressed a kiss to Merlin’s temple approvingly.

“That’s...let’s not tell people that part either, yeah?”

“The daisies part, or the come part?”

“The daisies. We could say you gave me some, though.” Merlin propped himself up on his elbow, excited by the new idea.

“I gave you daisies? And where does that fit into the story?”

“After the part where you saved me from a witch, but before the part where I fell swooning into your arms.”

“Swooning,” Percival said, dubious.

“Swooning,” Merlin confirmed. “I am, you know.”

Percival raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’re grateful for the help with the curse, and that’s more than enough for me, Merlin.”

“No, really!” Merlin said. “You’re amazing, and no one really knows it, but I’m starting to.”

“I’m like you, then,” Percival said.

Merlin grinned. “Like me, maybe.”

They kissed lazily among the daisies for another half hour, then cleaned up in a nearby stream.

They headed back to Camelot, Merlin with a spring in his step and a large bouquet of flowers in his hand that Percival had picked for him.


End file.
